


Holding On To You

by twdsunshine



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M, Terminal Illnesses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-24
Updated: 2019-03-22
Packaged: 2019-11-04 20:44:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17905313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twdsunshine/pseuds/twdsunshine
Summary: When Negan rescues the reader from a hospital in the early days of the apocalypse, he has no idea just how much she’ll come to mean to him.  Together, they’re strong enough to take on anything the world wants to throw at them, but she’s fighting a secret battle that he knows nothing about, and it’s about to bring everything he loves most crashing to the ground.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This series was commissioned by my girl, @negans-wife on Tumblr. Thank you so so much for trusting me to write this story for you and I really hope it’s everything that you want it to be! 
> 
> If you have a very specific or personal request that you’d like me to write, my commissions are open, so check out my FAQs - https://twdsunshine.tumblr.com/post/181820823979/requests-vs-commissions-faqs.

You woke to the sound of screams.

Your eyes flickered open, squinting against the harsh glare of the neon lights, and your heart began to race as you pushed yourself up from the bed, disorientated.  The room lurched alarmingly and you took a deep breath to steady yourself as the calls for help and agonised cries continued, sending a shiver down your spine.  Everything around you was white and clinical, and it was that sterility that brought the reality of your situation flooding back.  Hospital.  You were in hospital, in a private room, in the centre of the city, and you were, for the moment, alone.  The shrill screech of sirens split the air, drowning out the disturbing cacophony of shouts from the street below, but inside, all was quiet.  No footsteps echoed through the corridors, no hushed voices or the rhythmic beep of heart monitors on the wards.  The place was eerily still and your sense of unease only increased when you fumbled for your call button, jabbing your finger down hard, and nobody came.

Minutes passed, the seconds dragging slowly by, and you swallowed hard, reaching for your cell on your bedside table and scrolling down the screen until you found the number for your parents.  You hit call and held the phone to your ear, waiting for the line to connect, but you found that you were met with yet more silence.  No service.

Something was wrong.  Though you couldn’t explain it, you could feel it in your bones.  You’d spent enough time in hospitals now to know that they were never this quiet, not at any hour of the day, and you were filled with a nagging sensation that you’d missed something important as you slept.  You knew you had to move, to seek help. You couldn’t just lie there, listening to the chaos and wondering, worrying, letting your fear eat away at you.  You were used to fear.  You’d been carrying it with you for a long time now and you hadn’t let it take over yet, so you steeled yourself as you swung your legs out of bed, shuddering when your feet hit the cold floor.  Your limbs felt weak beneath you as you stood shakily, and you shuffled towards the door, peering out through the small glass window and letting out a gasp of horror at the sight that met your eyes.

The linoleum floor was streaked with gore, deep red and stomach-churningly fresh it seemed, and a body lay stricken in front of the nurses’ station, its clothes shredded and saturated with blood, the flesh torn from its bones, leaving behind a mangled, meaty mess.  Nausea rose up in your throat and you forced it down, groping blindly for the door handle and slipping out into the corridor, moving on your tiptoes as you crept past the corpse, a choked sob ripping through you.  It was like an image from your worst nightmare and yet you knew instinctively that this wasn’t a dream.  This was real, and tangible, and right in front of you, and your unease took a dizzying nosedive into the realms of terror, sickening and raw.  Only the desperate need to find someone, anyone, kept you moving.

It was when you rounded the corner in your search for some sign of life that it all became too much.  More bodies.  More blood.  More silence.  It turned your stomach and you sank to the floor with your back against the wall, burying your face in your hands as your tears began to fall freely.  You weren’t sure that you’d ever felt as lost as you did in that moment, with no clue what had happened here.  How could you possibly have slept through it, whatever it might be?  Surely there must have been screams, louder, nearer than the ones that had finally dragged you back to consciousness, and yet you’d been oblivious, sleeping soundly as people died in what must have been agony.  It had been a long time since you’d managed to snatch more than an hour or two’s rest in a night and the doctor had prescribed something to knock you out, giving your body a fighting chance to gather its strength.  It seemed it had worked far too well.

A low growl had your head snapping up, glancing off of the wall behind you and sending a shower of stars across your vision.  At the end of the hallway, a woman had appeared, slowly staggering towards you with her arms outstretched.  Soft snarls were spilling from her open lips and you thought she might be hurt, pushing yourself back to your feet and picking your way through the maze of death towards her, slow, unsure, your hands trembling as you drew near.

‘Hello?’  The woman offered no response.  ‘Hi, are you hurt?’  Still nothing.  You pressed on.  ‘My name’s Y/N.  I-I think something bad happened here.  Do you know what it was?’

Your eyes narrowed when your attempts to communicate continued to be ignored, coming to an abrupt stop as she tottered ever closer.  You could see her better now, her eyes yellowed and lifeless even as she fixed you with a ravenous stare, her teeth clacking together as she snapped her jaws.

‘Please.’  Your voice shook as she continued to advance on you, and you found yourself backing up, tripping on a stray arm that had been flung outward as a body fell and stumbling. ‘Please, would you just tell me what the hell’s going on here?  Where is everybody?  I need help, please.’

A large hand clamped down on your shoulder, pulling a panicked cry from your lips, and you looked up into the wild-eyed stare of an older man, his own face puffy and red, as though he’d torn himself from the depths of despair to find his way to your side.  ‘She’s not gonna be able to help you, doll.’

‘Sh-she won’t speak to me.’

‘Can’t.’  He cast a wary eye over you, taking in the hospital gown that hung loose from your shoulders.  ‘What are you in for?’

‘I- what?’

‘Why are you in here?  Were you bit?’

‘Bit?’  You wrinkled your nose as you tried to understand the question, before shaking your head.  ‘N-no, I-‘

Your confusion was interrupted when the man surged past you, raising up a scalpel that you hadn’t noticed before, clenched tight in his fist, and driving it through the woman’s skull before she could reach you, the thud of her body hitting the floor drowned out by your horrified scream.  Blood had spurted over the front of his jacket, painting the leather with a vivid scarlet splatter when he turned back to you.

‘You killed her!’

‘No, I- She was already dead.’

You frowned at him, though you found it hard to tear your gaze away from the weapon he still held.  ‘No, she was walking.  She looked sick, but-‘

‘Trust me, she was dead,’ he cut you off, his voice firm and insistent.  ‘Where the hell have you been for the past week, doll?  Haven’t you seen it all over the fucking news?’

‘Here,’ you told him.  ‘I’ve been here.  The TV in my room- The signal kept going… I-I don’t… She was really dead?’

‘As a damn doornail.  Corpses have been rising up all over town.  S’like a fucking horror movie or something.’

‘But… how?’

He shrugged.  ‘If we knew that, somebody probably could’ve figured out how to stop it by now.  As it is, city’s pretty much overrun.  We gotta get out of here.’

That snapped you out of the cage of sheer disbelief that had forged around your mind and you shook your head fiercely.  ‘No.  No, I can’t go anywhere.  The doctors-‘

‘-are gone,’ he finished for you.

‘What?  No.  They can’t be.’

‘Well, they are.  Dead or smart enough to get the hell out of dodge, which is exactly what we should be doing.  Are you coming or not?’

He was crazy.  He had to be.  He sure looked it with his bloodshot eyes and the mess of stubble that covered his cheeks and the gore that continued to drip down his front.  You would be smart to turn your back and run, get as far away from him as possible, as fast as you could.  Except that, while you were sleeping, the world seemed to have gone to hell, and there was nobody else around to provide you with the answers you needed.  So, really, you didn’t have a choice.

‘Yeah,’ you started, your voice weak and unsure, before you squared your shoulders and tried again.  ‘Yes.  I’m coming with you.’

‘Good girl.’  He was shrugging off his jacket, handing it over, though you shot him a look of disgust.  ‘Put it on.  You’re gonna want more than that flimsy little gown of yours out there.’

‘I-I have clothes back in my room.  It’s just-’  You raised your arm to point back the way you’d come, but he was cutting you off, growing frustrated.  

‘Can’t go back that way.  Too many corpses milling about.  Gotta go forward.’  He thrust the coat towards you more forcefully.  ‘Just take it, would you?  Don’t see you’ve got any better options right now, doll.’

He had a point, and you reluctantly slipped your arms into the sleeves, finding that they were a couple of inches too long, and that it hung midway down your thighs.  When you looked back to him for his approval, he was on his knees, yanking the boots from the feet of the woman he’d just taken down right in front of you.

‘What are you doing?’

‘You need shoes,’ he pointed out.  ‘Think these’ll fit?’

‘I- You can’t just steal her shoes!’

‘Why not?  She ain’t gonna be needing them anymore.’

He tossed them in your direction and you rolled your eyes as you stuffed your feet into them, relieved that they at least seemed to be the right size.  ‘Can we go now?’

For the first time, you saw him falter.  The confidence with which he’d addressed you up till now slipped away, revealing a hidden pain that made your heart ache, as he gazed over your shoulder, off down the hallway, his mind obviously somewhere else for a moment. And then, with a sigh tinged with sadness, he nodded.  ‘Yeah.  Yeah, we can go.  Let’s move.’


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, there’s a little bit of a time jump in this one from the first part, and each chapter will skip a few months into the future for the purpose of getting the story told. I hope that’s not confusing at all, and I hope you enjoy!

‘Y/N?’

Your name echoed through the neglected store, bouncing off the walls, so that it was hard to pinpoint exactly where Negan was.  Not that it mattered.  You had the routine down now, finding a target, clearing the place.  Each of you would take a section of the building, ensuring that you were safe from the undead, before combing through what remained of its supplies.  If he was calling for you, his voice loud and booming, it meant he was still alive and that the area he was working through was clear of biters.

‘All clear!’ you shouted back, before dropping to your knees to reach right to the back of the bottom rung of the shelves beside you, fingers groping to grasp a hold of the few measly cans still stacked there.  Wrinkling your nose when you pulled them out to find them covered with dust, the labels as unappetising as the meal inside would be, you were sure, you stuffed them into your backpack, swinging it up onto your shoulders before making your way into the next aisle.

The thud of footsteps alerted you to Negan’s approach as you made a grab for a squashed box of cereal bars, checking the contents with a wrinkle of your nose.  ‘Please tell me you found something better than this,’ you begged him, proffering the bashed container and shaking your head at his grin.  ‘You did, didn’t you?’

‘How will this do for you, sweetheart?’  His smile grew as he watched your face light up at the sight of the bottle of whiskey he clutched in his hand, unopened and chock full of shiny amber liquid.  ‘Might keep us warm tonight, whaddya say?’

‘Jackpot!’  You took a moment to revel in the small victory.  Between you, you’d not only scared up enough food to ensure that neither of you would go hungry that night, but also secured a way to dull the fear that always set in as soon as darkness fell, something to give you a little fire in your bellies to see you through till morning.  ‘Reckon we’ve missed anything?’

Negan ducked his head, peering out through the top of the wooden slats that boarded up the storefront at the grey sky above.  ‘We’ve probably got another hour or so before sunset.  I say we give this place one last go-over, then head on out, find somewhere to make camp.  Then we can crack this baby open.’

‘You got it.’

It worked, you and Negan.  Following him out of the hospital all those months ago had proven to be the best decision you’d ever made.  Without him, you knew you’d be dead by now, and you figured the same was probably true of him.  Not that he wasn’t strong, hell no.  You’d seen him fight off four, five, six walkers single-handed before, barely breaking a sweat.  But he needed people, company, to get by, and you were sure he’d have lost his mind if he hadn’t had you there to see him through his dark spells.  

You didn’t tend to speak much about life before you met.  You knew he’d lost his wife in that hospital, but you didn’t know how or who she was.  Her name sometimes burst from his lips when he was caught in the grip of a particularly traumatic nightmare, and so you knew he must’ve loved her deeply, but it wasn’t your place to pry.  Equally, he’d never pushed you to reveal why you’d been staggering the halls in a hospital gown, looking like death and feeling even worse, and you were grateful.  The apocalypse allowed no time for illness or self-pity.  You had to fight each and every day, so you needed to feel strong, and for Negan to believe that you were.  So, you played the headaches off as migraines, the dizziness as exhaustion or lack of food, and the only seizure that he’d been present for you’d explained as a severe reaction to the stress of the situation.  It was just easier that way.

A loud bang against the front of the store dragged you from your reverie and you glanced around for Negan, catching his eye when he too raised his head, brow furrowing.  Another bang followed, and then the screech of rotting skin being dragged against the window as the undead fought to get in.

‘Keep going,’ Negan told you decisively, turning back to the cabinet he’d been raiding.  ‘It’ll hold against two of ‘em.’

You nodded, trusting his judgement, though you found that you jumped at every noise with the knowledge that the corpses were so close, just metres away, clawing to get to you and rip the flesh from your bones.  You scolded yourself, turning your attention to a packet of jerky that was half-hidden beneath a stack of empty cardboard boxes, ducking down to retrieve it from the floor.  But… was it just your imagination or did it sound like they might be more of them now?  No, just keep going.  Negan said you’d be fine, so you’d be fine.

He’d kept you safe this long after all.  Even when you insisted that you head for your parents place instead of into the relative safety and quiet of the countryside.  He’d groaned and huffed at what he felt was an unnecessary risk, but he’d gone along with you all the same, never leaving your side.  You’d been glad of his presence when you’d arrived to find your childhood home standing empty, the door hanging off its hinges, cupboards raided of food and medicine, blood staining the sagging cushions of the couch.  He’d taken you into his arms and held you as you sobbed, and then he’d placed one long finger beneath your chin and forced your puffy, bloodshot eyes up to meet his.  'Gotta move, doll.  There’s nothing we can do here.’  And you’d nodded and followed him numbly out of the door, down the porch steps and away.  You’d made it one, maybe two blocks over, before you’d found yourself surrounded by walkers.  Broken and grieving you’d been in no condition for a fight, but Negan had broken into a garden shed and returned beaming, a slender wooden baseball bat held aloft like a trophy.  You hadn’t had to lift a finger as he lashed out again and again, shielding you from the monsters, and afterwards he’d only winked at you and held out his hand.  He was your savior and you’d trusted him implicitly from that day on.

The smash of glass shattering mixed with the deafening creak-crack of splintering wood froze you to the spot, and you looked up in horror to see several walkers clambering through the front window, now a gaping hole in the fabric of the building, stumbling over the debris their collective weight had created.

‘Shit.’  You pulled your knife from the holster on your hip, reluctant to use your already dwindling ammo and risk drawing more of the dead ones in.

‘Y/N!’  For the second time since you’d broken in, you heard Negan’s voice calling for you, this time more urgent, less questioning.

‘Here!’

‘Head for the back!  We can get out through the storeroom!’

‘Okay!’

The nearest corpse was almost on you now, its hands fumbling against the front of your jacket, and you rammed your blade through its skull, kicking it away so that it hit the ground with a sickening squelch.  Backing up, you kept your eyes on the threat as they continued their shuffling advance, jaws snapping as they filled the air with their toxic stench and rasping snarls.

‘Y/N?’

‘I’m coming!’

Finally, you turned, picking up your pace, running for the back door, lurching slightly when your balance faltered, your head beginning to spin.   _No, not now.  Come on…_

You fell hard, forcing the air from your lungs, your fingers struggling for purchase on the linoleum as you tried to pull yourself along, away from the monsters, but your left arm was failing you, your strength disappearing as panic began to set in.

Rancid breath ghosted over the back of your neck as a corpse fell to its knees in its hurry to reach you, half-crawling across you as it clawed at you, searching for bare skin.  The weight of it slowed you down even more, and a shriek of terror burst from your lungs when you felt piercing nails scrape over your throat.

A furious bellow in response had you whipping your head up, just in time to see the smooth arc of Negan’s baseball bat as he brought it crashing down on the skull of the walker.  You felt blood spatter over your face, but paid it no mind as you rolled, fighting to free yourself from beneath the lifeless body.  Your hand found Negan’s, warm and reassuring as he hauled you to your feet, pulling you with him as he retreated.  Your head was still spinning alarmingly as your heart pounded in your chest, but the tight grip he had on you gave you a way to centre yourself and you focused all of your attention on staying upright, letting him take the lead as he tugged you towards the door in the back wall, shoving you through it ahead of him and slamming it closed as soon as he’d followed you through.  Almost immediately, you heard the thud of the undead falling against it, but you were already halfway across the stockroom, heading for the fire exit.

‘Behind me,’ Negan instructed, adjusting his hold on his weapon before inching open the heavy door, grimacing when the hinges creaked under the strain.  'Alright, up and over.  Quick.’

There was only a small yard at the rear of the building, bordered by a tall wire fence.  You pushed yourself up on tiptoe, fingers lacing through the links, before Negan’s arm wrapped around your waist, hoisting you up.  Your hands found the top and you dragged yourself the rest of the way, tumbling to the ground on the other side, only the pack on your back cushioning your fall.  Seconds later, Negan landed at your side, almost cat-like in his agility, and then you were off again, darting across the road and into the cover of the trees on the other side.

Miles later, your legs finally gave out and you collapsed to the ground, throwing one hand over your eyes.  You’d been walking for what felt like hours, desperate to put as much distance as possible between you and the now walker-infested store, but the fight for your life had taken its toll and you’d been struggling.  You thought Negan might haul you up again, insist on keeping moving, but instead he dropped down beside you, stretching out his long legs in the scrub and sighing deeply.  'Hell of a damn day.’

'We’re alive though, right?’ you pointed out, breathless after the brisk hike.  'That’s all that matters.’

'Well, not all that matters.’  You frowned, though it was too much effort to lift your head when you heard him rummaging in his pack, so you lay still, waiting for him to go on.  Instead, a bottle was held over your face, and a gleeful laugh erupted from Negan as he showed off his prize.  ‘I gotta say, doll, I think we fucking earned this.’

‘Wow.’  You arched an eyebrow, though the temptation to join in with his laughter was tugging at your lips.  'You saved me and the whiskey?  You’re a real-life hero.’

'You might just be right about that.’

 

* * *

 

You added another log to the fire, shivering as it sent shadows dancing over the ground, still on edge after the run gone wrong.  It could have been worse, of course, you knew that.  You’d seen that, more times than you could count.  But you’d come damn close to being torn apart and it had shaken you more than you’d ever admit.  You could hear Negan moving about in the gloom between the trees, setting up a perimeter to keep you safe through the night, and you automatically felt more secure when he re-emerged, dropping into a low crouch as he set down his tools and his bat beside the flames.

‘I’ll tell ya one good thing about having less people.  Sure makes it a hell of a lot quicker to set up camp.  Just about done, I reckon.’

He wasn’t wrong.  Not long ago there had been more of you, but that had meant more space, more noise, more supplies needed.  They weren’t the first group you’d teamed up with, and they weren’t the dumbest either by a long way, but they’d been impulsive, reckless, and it had been their downfall.  Only Negan’s quick-thinking had gotten the two of you out of there in one piece, and you thought it would be a long time before you put your trust in anyone else again.

Now, you nodded towards the length of barbed wire that he was coiling up carefully in his hands, cocking your head to one side as an idea struck you.  ‘You don’t need that?’

‘Nah.  Kept it small.  Just enough space for the two of us, doll.’

You thought for a moment as you took it from him, twisting the wire in your hands, pressing a fingertip against a sharp spike and only vaguely wondering why you couldn’t feel a thing, even as a bead of blood appeared.  'Hey, pass me that.’

Negan frowned as you motioned towards the bat laying at his side, its surface cleaned of the gore that had coated it earlier, but he handed it to you nonetheless, only slightly hesitant.  Then, as he watched you begin to wrap the wire around the shaft of his weapon, each turn evenly spaced, the barbs glinting menacingly in the light of the fire, a wide grin split his face.  'Well, sweetheart, that is just fucking beautiful.’

'And twice as deadly,’ you observed, holding it out to inspect your work.  ‘You could make a real mess with a weapon like this.’

His eyes sparkled as he took the bat from your hand, pushing himself to his feet and swinging her through the air with a look of satisfaction.  'Lucille.’

‘What?’

'Her name’s Lucille.’

'Like your wife?  Since when?’

'Right fucking now.’  He was still admiring her, his tongue snaking out to wet his bottom lip as he turned her slowly before him, taking in every inch.  'My wife saved my stupid ass more times than I can count back when she was alive.  And this thing, hell, she’s saved the both of us several times over.  Kinda seems right.’

'I guess it does.’

He sank back down beside you, though he seemed reluctant to part from the newly named Lucille, holding her in his lap, his gaze still combing over her new adjustment.  'I never really told you about her, did I?’

There was a sadness in his voice, despite the gleam of excitement in his eyes, and you shook your head, staying quiet.  In truth, you weren’t sure if he was talking to you or the bat, but either way, you were happy just to listen.

'She was the first woman I ever loved.  Only woman, I guess.  Before her, I was a get done, get gone kinda guy.  Worked my way through many a sorority house, I can tell ya.  Like picking fruit from the tree, all ripe and juicy.  But Lucille… Damn, she wasn’t like anybody else I’d ever met.’

'What was it about her?’ you couldn’t help but ask, and Negan turned his attention on you, inhaling sharply as if trying to pinpoint exactly what it might have been.

'She had a full-size set of lady balls for a start.  Didn’t stand for a single second of my bullshit.  She was her own fucking person and, man, that’s not easy at college, but she wasn’t about to change a thing to fit in with anyone.  She was a badass and she was mine and I thought I was the luckiest son of a bitch in the world.’

‘She sounds amazing.’

'She was.’  He sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly as he went on.  'And I was an asshole to her.  She deserved a whole lot better.’

'You- you cheated?’  You didn’t know how you knew.  You just did, instinctively.  Maybe it was his flirtatious nature, or that dimpled grin that he’d shoot you whenever he thought you might be about to argue with one of his decisions.  Negan was a man that was used to getting his own way with women, and you could only imagine what he’d been like before.  Lucky for you, you’d proved semi-resistant to his charms.  So, he made your stomach flip occasionally, and when he stripped off his shirt to wash himself down in the river your mouth would go dry.  It was just a result of the close proximity and being a little bit touch-starved, that was all.  There was no room for anything else.

'I screwed around on her for years.  I hate myself for it now.  And then she got sick.’

You’d known that part.  After all, it was what had put him in that hospital at the same time as you on the day you’d met, but you’d never heard him talk about it so openly before.

'What was wrong with her?’

'Cancer,’ he bit out, his teeth gritting together as though the word disgusted him.  'Fucking cancer.  I watched her waste away and I couldn’t do a damn thing about it.’

The air around you seemed to turn cold all at once, raising goosebumps over your skin as you fought to swallow around the lump in your throat.  Such a vicious disease, and what it could do to people… It didn’t stand thinking about, not now.  After all, in the apocalypse, there was no fighting it.  All cancer was terminal.  There was no chemo, no radiotherapy.  No drugs.  No surgery.  You just had to keep going for as long as you possibly could before it beat you.  Because it would.  It was just a matter of time.

‘I-I’m sorry.’  You almost choked on the words as you pictured him sitting at her bedside, clutching her frigid, bony hand as she slowly slipped away.  You wondered if she’d even felt his presence at the end or if she’d been too far gone by that point.  It seemed to you that the secret to surviving was having something, somebody, to hold on to, and that it was only when you lost the ability to cling on to them, finding yourself cast adrift in a turbulent ocean of pain and delirium, that the cancer began to win the battle.  Negan seemed like a pretty good anchor, at least for now.

'What about you?’  Negan’s eyes were raking over your face, his hand reaching for yours, calloused thumb rubbing over your knuckles.

'What about me?’

'You never did tell me why you were in the hospital that day, doll.  Something going on with you I should know about?’

Your jaw dropped open, mouth moving uselessly as you attempted to form words, but it was all too much, and the lie fell from your lips before you’d even thought it through.  'No, it was nothing.  Just a follow-up, that’s all.  I’m all good.’

'Good.’  His sigh of relief was audible and he squeezed your fingers tightly.  'Hell, I don’t think I’d be able to handle losing you too.’

The icy air closed in around you until you felt like you couldn’t breathe, but you forced a weak laugh from your throat, desperate now to change the subject.  ‘It’s a good thing you’ve got Lucille there to keep the biters away then, huh?’

'Damn straight.’

 

* * *

 

Later that night, with Negan’s long body curled against your back, cradling you close for warmth, you found that sleep just didn’t want to come.  Silent tears slipped down your cheeks as you contemplated just what you were condemning him to by allowing him to become such a central part of your life, but you were too attached now, too dependent to even think about pushing him away.

No, for now you’d just hold on.  He had enough strength for the both of you, and with him by your side, most days you felt like you could conquer anything that life threw at you: endless wandering, aimless, homeless, run down by exhaustion and hunger.  You just had to keep holding on.  

The next day, you rose early and began your onwards journey to who-in-the-hell-knew-where.  You’d only been walking for an hour when you stumbled across a factory. 


	3. Chapter 3

The rap of your knuckles against the heavy door echoed down the corridor, aggravating the headache that had been throbbing in your skull since you’d woken that morning.  All you’d wanted to do was stay hidden beneath the covers until either it went away or sleep reclaimed you, but it had been a big week, and there had been things that you needed to do.  Still, when you entered without waiting for a response, you found that the pain was unable to keep the smile from your face when you were met with the sight of Negan settled behind a large mahogany desk, his feet kicked up on the smooth surface, Lucille in his hands.  He looked good - he looked like a leader - and you couldn’t fight the tug of attraction in your stomach as you sauntered across the room towards him.  It was something that you’d been trying to ignore for a while now, but it seemed to be a losing battle that you were caught in.  If nothing else, it was a brief distraction from the constant nausea that seemed to plague you these days.

‘How’s it going, boss?’  You made sure to put particular emphasis on the title, and his answering grin brought a flush of heat to your skin as you settled yourself in the chair opposite him.  ‘Looking good in here.’

‘I shifted some stuff around,’ he told you, proudly.  ‘Wanted to be the first thing anybody sees when they walk through that door.  What’s the damn point in having an office like this if you’re hidden away in the corner, right?’

‘Starting with the basics.’  You nodded in understanding.  ‘I like it.  Gotta make your mark.’

‘Felt like I needed to do something after the fucking shitstorm I had to unleash to get here.’  He arched an eyebrow, and you sighed, shaking your head.

When you’d stumbled across the old factory, it had seemed like a Godsend, a sanctuary, and you’d eagerly joined their community, grateful for a break in the never-ending fight for survival that life had become.  But it had soon become clear that the man in charge was a tyrant.  Worse, he was a clueless tyrant, and his consistently poor decisions were getting his people killed on a daily basis.  At first, you’d determined that it was best to leave, just pack up and go before you ended up on the growing list of the dead, but then Negan had caught wind of whisperings: dissatisfaction, mutiny, rebellion.  You’d discussed it at length, just the two of you, sitting up long into the night to draw up plans, weigh up the risks involved, but it had soon become apparent that it was the best option either of you had.  And from that moment on, you’d gone to work, picking up on the undertones of tension and building on them, spreading rumours, recruiting those with the lowest morale into the army you were building.

‘Save yourself,’ Negan had preached.  ‘Nobody’s gonna come riding in here on a stinkin’ white horse and rescue your sorry asses.  You gotta be your own saviors!  You gotta be the ones to make things change!’

You’d thought that, with enough people on your side, the old leader would step down graciously, accept the change of rule, but he hadn’t.  He’d tried to wage a war, and blood had been spilled throughout the building in his attempt to cling to his power.  But, ultimately, Negan had been victorious, just as you’d known he would be.

‘So, what’s next?’ you asked now, and he swung his feet back to the floor, leaning forward to drum his fingers against his desk, eyes sparkling as he considered just what he intended to do with the community now that he was in charge.

‘Y’know, I’ve been thinking, doll, about what it is that makes this place so damn special, keeps it ticking over.  And I figured it out.  People.  Hundreds of people!  This place is crawling with the little assholes and it’s gotta be the reason it’s still standing.  Safety in numbers, right?’  You nodded your agreement.  ‘So, it only stands to reason that there must be other groups out there, other communities, like us, but weaker.  We’ve got a damn army here- they proved that when they banded together and put me here - and we’re wasting their potential, sending them out scouring for supplies.’

‘So…’  You frowned in confusion, unsure exactly what he was angling at.

‘So, what if we reach out to those other communities?  Seek ‘em out, show ‘em what we’re capable of.  We get them to go out there and do our dirty work, give us a percentage of the whatever supplies they manage to scare up, and in return, we offer them protection.’

‘That… actually kinda makes sense.’  You couldn’t deny it.  It almost resembled the setup of the old world, big corporations offering financial security in return for investment of time and loyalty.  It was just that, in this world, it was physical protection from the dead that people needed, not money.  ‘You’re not as dumb as you look, you know that?’

‘I’m gonna take that as a fucking compliment.’  Negan pushed himself up from his chair, moving around the desk to lean against it, directly in front of you, so that you could smell the leather of his jacket.  ‘I’ve got big plans for this place.  It’s gonna be the start of the new world order, you can count on that.’

He went on.  You know he did.  You could hear his voice, a low hum in your ears, could see his mouth moving, but the words were fading to nothing.  The nausea that you’d become accustomed to had intensified all of a sudden, threatening to drag you under, and you swallowed hard, your fingers clutching the arms of the chair white-knuckle tight as you fought to bring yourself back to earth.  Your vision blurred for a moment, only increasing your sense of detachment, and the pain in your head seemed to spike, until it was almost debilitating, dragging you away from everything around you.  It seemed that it has disliked being ignored and was intent on making you suffer as much as possible, and you blinked dazedly when you became aware of a large hand cupping your cheek.

‘Hey, Y/N, you with me, doll?’

‘What?’  It was a quiet murmur, barely audible, and you cleared your throat, taking a deep breath when Negan’s face finally came back into focus.  ‘Sorry, yeah.  I-I just zoned out.  I’m okay.’

‘You sure?  You look wrecked, sweetheart.’

‘I’m okay.’  You forced yourself to your feet, hoping to get away before you collapsed, but your balance was off, and you lurched clumsily to one side, only remaining standing when a long arm snaked around your waist.  ‘Shit, sorry.’

‘What’s going on with you?’  Negan’s hold on you tightened, his dark eyes boring into yours as he searched for answers that you weren’t ready or willing to give.  ‘You’ve got me fucking worried now, princess.’

‘I’m okay.’  You forced yourself to take one slow step back, then another, pleased when you managed to remain steady without his help.  ‘Just… I skipped breakfast.  And lunch.  Seems to have gone to my head.’

That, at least, wasn’t a lie.  You found you had little to no appetite these days and you weren’t inclined to choke down food that you felt could be better used elsewhere.  But it did leave you feeling weak, or weaker than usual, and it probably wasn’t helping your situation.  So, when Negan offered his arm, you slipped yours through it gratefully, not bothering to argue when he ordered, ‘Well, looks like we’re headed to the canteen then. Gonna get some fucking dinner in you before you drop.  I can’t do any of this without you, you know that, right?  Gotta start looking after yourself.’

It was almost impossible to swallow around the lump in your throat.  ‘I’ll try.’

 

* * *

 

Later that night, you lay in bed, doing a quick mental rundown of your symptoms as you tried to gauge just exactly how you were actually doing.  Your headache hadn’t diminished as you’d sat in the canteen, pretending to listen as those around you had discussed what came next now that the fighting was over, though it had eased off a little now that you’d dipped into the stash of painkillers that you’d stolen from the doctor’s office, and the nausea had returned to its normal levels, just enough to keep you on edge and remind you that you weren’t normal, weren’t the survivor that Negan thought you were.  Your seizures were becoming more frequent, and it was more luck than anything else that you’d learnt how to identify when one might hit – flashing lights across your vision, a numbness that seemed to encompass your whole body – and often had time to excuse yourself, making for your room or the nearest store cupboard, where you’d come to minutes later, feeling weak and confused.  Eating was a trial, something you did to keep your body going, despite having no desire to and wondering sometimes if you would choke if you kept forcing food down your throat, and sleep only brought with it the fear that you would wake up feeling as though your head might split in two, or maybe not wake up at all.

It was getting harder and harder to hide the truth from Negan, but you weren’t ready to share this with him yet.  How could you when you knew that he’d had to sit at his wife’s bedside and watch her slip away from him?  When he told you time and time again that he couldn’t do any of this without you?  He’d taken control of this place with you at his side, and you couldn’t abandon him to run it alone, not now.  He depended on you and you couldn’t bear to let him down.

Plus, there was something else, something new between you that only seemed to have sprung up over the past few weeks.  The bond you’d shared seemed to have strengthened, to have shifted somehow into something that was more intense, deliciously so, and most days you’d find that you could lose yourself just watching him: the way his muscles shifted beneath his shirt as he swung Lucille up onto his shoulder, his long-legged stride as he walked the halls, the way his tongue would snake out to wet his bottom lip as he teased you.  You were sure it wasn’t one-sided.  You were sure you hadn’t imagined that he held you a little tighter when he bid you goodnight, that he lingered a little longer over the meals you shared, despite having a hundred other things that he should be doing.  Neither of you had voiced this new attraction, both too afraid, you thought, of ruining what you had, but you knew that telling him the truth now would end all of it before it had even had a chance to begin.

Your reverie was interrupted by a soft knock at the door, and you craned your neck as it swung slowly open and Negan’s lithe figure stole into the room, just a shadow in the darkness.

You instinctively moved over to make space for him as he perched on the edge of the bed, and he stretched out beside you, settling himself against your pillow and reaching out an arm so you could curl against him.  His chest was firm yet forgiving beneath your head, and he held you tightly, burying his face in your hair and inhaling deeply.  ‘Shit, doll, you’re scaring the hell out of me.’

You remained silent, barely daring to breathe as you processed his close proximity.  Though you’d spent many a night like this out on the road, since joining the Sanctuary you’d slept separately, in your own beds, and the warmth of his body against yours felt intoxicatingly good.

‘Something’s going on with you.  I know it.  I know you won’t tell me what it is, but I can feel it, Y/N.’

‘Negan-'

‘Just don’t leave me, okay?  Don’t you fucking leave me.’

‘I promise.’

It was an empty promise and that simple fact sent a jolt of searing pain through your heart, but it was quickly overwhelmed when you tilted your face up to his.  He was watching you, his eyes dark, expression unreadable in the gloom of the night, and yet you could feel his breath ghosting over your face.  Electricity crackled in the air between you, and the hand on your waist drifted down to rest on the bare skin of your hip, and then his lips brushed yours, so feather light you thought you might have imagined it.

‘I don’t want to be alone tonight.’  The words left your mouth before you’d properly thought them through, pleading and desperate.

Negan’s voice was a gruff rasp when he replied.  ‘I’m not going anywhere.’

 

* * *

 

When you woke, the bed beside you was empty, and the kiss you’d shared the previous night felt like a dream.  Sunlight was filtering in through your window, casting the room in a golden glow, and you felt weirdly okay.  Better than okay.  For the first time in recent memory, you felt normal.  Filled with a renewed enthusiasm, you swung your legs out of bed, eager to get up and start the day, to find Negan and maybe talk about the moment you’d shared.  Perhaps you had a little longer left than you thought, and you wanted to make the most of every second with him.

Your feet hit the cold floor and you shuddered, though you pushed yourself upright, knowing that you’d get used to the chill eventually.  But something was wrong.  You tried to walk, to cross your room, to put one foot in front of the other as you did every single day.  But your limbs refused to move, and you slowly, and gracefully, crumpled to the floor.


	4. Chapter 4

‘We are up and running!’  Negan’s shout of victory reverberated off the walls, and you fought against the grimace that twisted your lips as the pain in your head spiked.

‘That’s great.’

‘Hell yeah, it is.’  He dropped down into the chair at your bedside, kicking his boots up to rest on the mattress by your knee, and you rolled onto your side to face him, revelling in his indulgent grin.  ‘Two fucking weeks, doll, and I’ve already turned this shit show around.’

He’d been working hard while you’d been laid up, organising the community into his Saviors and the workers, introducing a points system for trade and searching for other groups that may be able to provide for them.  He’d found one so far, with rumours of another a few miles further out, and had set up an outpost in an abandoned satellite building that stood halfway between here and there.  Today, the first occupants of that outpost had taken up residence, and it finally felt like Negan’s vision was coming to pass.

You wished more than anything that you could be at his side, helping him, building his empire, as you should be, as you’d promised you would, but you were confined to a bed in the infirmary under doctor’s orders, and you were too weak to argue.  When you’d been carried into his office a couple of weeks ago, you’d had no choice but to reveal the truth about your condition to Carson, watching his detached expression falter for just a second as he realised just how bad things were.  He’d prescribed you regular doses of the few pills he had that might slow your deterioration, but had wanted to keep you close so he could monitor your progress.  Of course, you’d begged him to keep your secret.  You still weren’t ready for Negan to know and, as you listened to him share the details of this success with you, you were glad you’d made that decision.  He didn’t need the distraction, the worry, right now.  He had more important things to focus his attention on.

‘So, Simon’s happy to take over the dealings with this new community?’

‘Raring to go.  Shit, the guy’s a go-getter, I’ll tell you.  He’ll have the supplies rolling in before we fucking know it.’

‘And you trust him?’  You’d never had a particularly good vibe from the man Negan had chosen as his second-in-command in your absence.  He’d been an asset during the battle to take control, but he’d almost seemed too excited by the opportunity to spill blood, too eager to kill, and it had left you feeling unsettled.

‘As much as I do any of these assholes,’ Negan scoffed, and you rolled your eyes.  ‘I know you don’t like him, doll, but he’s had my back while you’ve been kicking back in here.  Loyalty don’t come cheap.’  At your narrowed eyes, he chuckled, swinging his feet to the floor so he could reach for your hand and brush his lips over the knuckles, his grip warm and reassuring.  ‘Look, I’m giving him a shot, okay?  Soon as he steps even an inch over that line, I’ll take him down, I promise.’

‘Okay.’  It wasn’t okay, not really, but you were too tired to pursue it further, and, when the doctor came bustling in with your next dose of meds, it was a welcome distraction.

‘How are we doing this morning?’  He fixed you with a pointed look as he tipped the pills into your palm, waiting for you to pop them into your mouth before he handed you a bottle of water to swig them down with.

‘Better,’ you lied, and his eyes narrowed.

‘Yeah?’  Negan was looking between you as though waiting for a status report, though neither of you offered one.  ‘When you gonna get my girl here up and about, doc?  Not sure how much longer I can keep the rabble under control without this one by my side.’

There was a hint of humour in his tone, but Carson’s voice was monotonous as he churned out his standard line.  ‘It’s a virus.  Nothing we can do but manage the symptoms and let it run its course.’

‘Yeah, but it’s been weeks, doc.  I mean, shit, that can’t be right, can it?’  He cast an eye over you.  ‘She’s young, strong.  Should be fighting this off, no trouble.’

You could imagine that you looked anything but young and strong in that moment, but that didn’t deter him.  You were barely eating, and your bones jutted out worryingly from your skin, and the seizures that seemed even more frequent now left you feeling shaky and useless.  ‘Negan, there’s nothing he can do, alright?  Just got to wait for it to pass.’

‘I’m doing everything I can.’

Negan huffed in frustration, but climbed to his feet, swinging Lucille up onto his shoulder as he did so.  That bat went everywhere with him now, the wire that wrapped around its smooth shaft a reminder of the nights you’d spent alone together, out in the darkness.  ‘Fine.  Rest.  I need you back with me, sweetheart.’

‘I know.  I’m sorry.’

‘Yeah, you should be,’ he teased, stooping to press a kiss to your forehead, lingering just a little longer than necessary, the invasion of your personal space bringing a flush of warmth to your cheeks.  ‘I’ll be back later on, okay?

He strode from the room, exuding authority from every pore, and you felt yourself deflate as you were left alone with the doctor, who was watching you with judgement in his eyes.

‘You need to tell him.’

‘How am I supposed to do that?’

‘It’ll be worse if you don’t.’

 

* * *

 

The day dragged, as they all seemed to now.  You slept when you could, read a few chapters of the book that Negan had brought by a few days ago to keep you occupied, though in all honesty you didn’t have a clue what it was about.  The words merged together on the page, and you soon gave up, tossing it onto the bedside table with a sigh.  You could see through the slatted blinds at your window that the light was fading, and you knew that meant that Negan would be with you soon.

It had become part of his routine whilst you’d been in the infirmary.  He’d come by after dinner and spend the evening with you, telling you about the developments in his plans, reminiscing about your time on the road, and trading tales about life before.  You laughed a lot, and it had become the highlight of your day.

You’d never spoken about the kiss you’d shared, that intimate moment curled up together in your bed.  It hadn’t seemed appropriate when you’d been struggling to walk, being poked and prodded by the doc, and then too much time had passed and it would have seemed awkward to bring it back up.  You sometimes took the memory out in the middle of the night, letting the feeling of his stubble scratching against your cheek chase away the fears that plagued you in the darkness, the warmth of his mouth on yours calm your busy mind.  He’d become your strength, the centre of your world, even more so now than before, as he supported you through an illness that was far worse than he even knew.  He made you feel alive, even as your time was slowly slipping away.

‘You awake, doll?’

You glanced up now to see him standing in the doorway, long body lounging against the frame.  ‘Yeah.  Come in.’

‘How’re you feeling?’

‘I’m okay.’  You eased yourself over in the bed, making space for him to squeeze in beside you, nestling against him when he wrapped his arm around your shoulders.  ‘How’s your day been?’

‘Busy.’  He sounded tired, and when you peered up into his face through the gathering gloom you could see the dark circles beneath his eyes.  ‘It ain’t easy being king.’

‘Should’ve thought of that before you took the crown,’ you pointed out, smiling when a deep chuckle rumbled through his chest.  ‘What’s giving you trouble?’

‘Ahh, nothing for you to worry about.  Just… Our protection doesn’t seem to be as big a motivator for people to give us their shit as we might’ve thought.  We’re meeting resistance we didn’t expect.’

‘So, what are you gonna do about it?’

‘I’m gonna wear them the fuck down,’ he purred.  ‘Make them see that they need us.’

‘Worked on me,’ you pointed out, and again that honeyed laugh vibrated through him, letting loose the butterflies you kept carefully caged in your stomach.

‘Nah, you were easy.’

‘Shut up.’  You batted his chest, and he caught your hand, lacing your fingers together.  ‘You saved me.  Just like you’re going to save all of them.  You just have to be patient.’

‘Not one of my strong points.’

‘I’d noticed.’

His laughter faded away as a deep sigh parted his lips, and you burrowed in closer, inhaling the whiskey-leather scent of him.  ‘Shit, doll, I need you with me.  It seems so much fucking easier when I’ve got you in my ear.  You’re my voice of fucking reason.  I need you out of here.’

‘I’m trying, Negan.’

‘I know, I know.  I’m not… I’m not blaming you.  I’m just saying… I need you.’

‘You’ve got me.’

 

* * *

 

You’d moved the conversation on after that, changing the subject, drawing the focus on to happier things, and it had pleased you to see the stress lift from his shoulders, to see his body relax as you molded yourself against him, making the most of having him there before the morning rolled around and he had to leave again.  In Negan’s company, you didn’t feel like a patient.  You felt like a woman wrapped around her man, and that… That was everything.  It justified the secrets you were keeping in your head, at least for a little while longer, but fate had other plans.

An hour had passed, maybe two, when you felt it coming on.  Lights danced at the edges of your vision, and suddenly you could no longer feel his hand holding yours, his chest beneath your head.  You didn’t have time to think, to speak, to scream at him to leave, but of course, that would have raised just as many questions as what was about to happen.

You only had time to gasp before everything went black.

 

* * *

 

‘Doc?  Doc!  What the fuck’s happening?’

‘Just stand back, please.  Move away.’

‘Fucking do something!’

‘She’ll be back with us in a moment.’

Your eyes flickered open, struggling to focus for a moment, and you sucked in a deep breath before attempting to ease yourself up the bed, seeking a pillow or something to support your head.

‘Y/N?  Doll?’

‘I-I’m okay.’  It seemed to take a ridiculous amount of effort to speak, and exhaustion pricked at your eyelids, threatening to drag you under.

‘Take your time, Y/N.  Do you know where you are?’

‘Of course she knows where she fucking is.  What sort of question is that?’

‘Y/N?’

‘I-I’m at the Sanctuary.’  It took a moment before you felt able to go on.  ‘In the infirmary.’

‘That’s right.  How do you feel?’

How did you feel?  That was a complicated question.  You felt detached, almost as though you were floating away, and yet, at the same time, your limbs felt leaden, solid weights holding you down.  Your head ached, persistent and aggravating, and your stomach rolled as you forced yourself to focus on the doctor hovering over you.  And then there was the embarrassment, the humiliation, that Negan had seen you at your weakest, your most vulnerable, when you’d tried so hard to shield him from it for so long.  Instead, you settled for the easy answer.  ‘Tired.’

‘Of course.  You should rest.’

‘Screw that, doc.’  You could hear the bite to Negan’s voice, the barely contained anger simmering beneath the surface.  ‘She doesn’t need rest.  She needs you to pull your finger out of your fucking ass and make her better!’

‘Right now, she needs you to leave.’

‘You’ve got a fucking nerve-‘

‘Negan, please.’  Your quiet husk was desperate enough that it silenced his outburst, and he turned to you with wide, frightened eyes.  ‘Please, just go.  I’ll speak to you in the morning.’

 

* * *

 

You woke with a pit of dread in your stomach.  It was early, the sun peeking through the tops of the blind weak and watery, and you still felt bone-tired, though thankfully the nagging ache was gone from your head.  Your sleep had been haunted by the image of Negan’s face when he’d left the room the night before: lost and confused and scared.  You weren’t sure you’d ever seen him look so afraid.

It was your fault, you knew.  Carson had been right when he’d told you it’d be worse to say nothing than to be honest, and now your lies had been revealed in the worst way.  You’d blacked out during the seizure, the world around you falling away, but you could imagine Negan’s panic, his shouts for help.  It hurt your heart just to picture it.  And, the truth was, you knew your condition was worsening.  It was the reason that the doctor was so reluctant to let you leave.  There was no getting better now, no improvement.  It was time for Negan to know.

‘Time for your pills.’  Carson’s entrance tore you from the conversations in your mind, your repetitive rehearsal of exactly what you might say, how you might tell him, and you summoned up a meaningless smile as you took the proffered meds.

‘Thank you.’

‘How are you feeling?’

‘Washed out,’ you admitted.  ‘That one really took it out of me.’

‘No pain?’

‘Not today.  Not yet, anyway.’

‘That’s good.’  He nodded briskly.  ‘You remember what happened last night then?’

‘I do.’

‘Negan was here.’

‘I know.’  You swallowed hard, well aware of the point he was making. ‘I’m going to tell him, okay?  I’m going to tell him today.’

 

* * *

 

 

Your resolve only faltered for a second when Negan walked into the room.  Even when he hadn’t slept, with his salt and pepper stubble as long as you’d ever seen it and his dark hour tousled instead of neatly slicked back, he was one of the most handsome men you’d ever laid eyes on, and you so badly wanted to avoid seeing his features contorted in the pain and anguish that you knew you were about to cause.  But, when he settled himself on the chair beside you, his chocolate eyes raking over your face, the concern you saw there was almost worse, and you knew that this was it.  You had to do it now.

‘How are you doing, doll?’

‘I’m okay,’ you lied, and you saw hope blossom in his gaze.  ‘I mean… No, I’m not okay.  We need to talk, Negan.  There’s- There’s something I need to tell you.’

‘I kinda figured,’ he murmured, and then his long fingers were lacing through yours, squeezing tightly, as if he knew what was coming before you’d even spoken a word.

‘When you found me in the hospital, when you asked me about it… I lied to you.  I wasn’t there for a follow-up.’  He remained silent, though you saw the muscles twitch in his jaw as though he were gritting his teeth.  ‘I was in there for treatment.  Surgery.  Chemo.’

‘Cancer?’  He spat the word like it tasted sour in his mouth, his whole body slumping in the chair when you nodded.  ‘Shit, doll.’

‘I have glioblastoma.  It’s a brain tumour.’  A lump formed in your throat as his eyes filled with tears, and your voice sounded choked when you forced yourself to keep going.  ‘It, erm… It might have been treatable, before.  I- They told me I had a good chance of pulling through with the right treatment and…  And then the world ended.  And now there aren’t any surgeons or tools.  There’s no chemo.  There’s just… Carson and his little bottles of pills.’

A humourless laugh escaped you and Negan flinched.  ‘They don’t help?’

‘They take the edge off.  That’s about all they do.’  You sucked in a breath, focusing your gaze on the ceiling so that you didn’t have to see him cry.  ‘There is no cure anymore, Negan.  This… This is it for me.  And I should have told you sooner, I know that, but I wanted… I wanted to be strong for you.  I wanted to be normal for a little while.  I didn’t want to look at you and see pity in your eyes.’

He cleared his throat, and you knew he was fighting against the emotion that threatened to overwhelm him.  He’d been here before, he’d done all of this with Lucille and, honestly, you wouldn’t have blamed him if he’d bolted out the door.  ‘So, last night…’

‘I had a seizure.  It’s- It’s no big deal, really.  I have them a lot.  They’re getting more frequent though and they’re more… tiring than they were, I guess.  Draining.  I don’t feel it.  For me everything just kinda goes black, but when I come to, it’s… I get a little hazy.’

‘You scared the shit outta me, doll.’

‘I know.  I’m sorry.’

‘It’s okay.  I get it, I do.  I understand why you didn’t tell me.’  You jumped as his arm shot out, swiping your book from the bedside table and sending it flying across the room.  ‘Shit!’

‘Negan-‘

‘No, no, I can’t… I don’t fucking accept this, okay?  There’s gotta be something we can do! There has to be!’

‘There isn’t.’

‘But-’

‘Negan, there isn’t.  Trust me, I would’ve thought of it if there was an option, or Carson would’ve.  I-I don’t want to go.  I want to be here with you, building this place up, because I know it’s gonna be… It’s gonna be great.  But there’s nothing.  It is what it is.’

He ducked his head, hiding his face from your eyes as he tried to compose himself, and the next words he spoke broke your heart.  ‘But I love you, doll.  I fucking love you more than… More than anything.  All of this means shit without you.  You can’t-  You can’t leave me.’

Tears spilled freely from your eyes as you reached out to cup his face, soft skin catching on the coarse bristles.  You felt like you’d been waiting a long time to hear those words, spoken with so much meaning behind them, so much sincerity, and it was too late.  It was all too late.  ‘I love you too.  Have done since… I don’t even know.’

You sat in silence, unmoving, for what felt like an eternity and seconds all at once, his gaze locked on yours, your breath mingling in the space between you, his hand covering your fingers where they rested against his face.  There were no more words, nothing else to say, and yet neither one of you could stand to break the moment, just in case it might be the last.

‘How long have we got?’  His voice was a low rasp when he spoke again, shaky and unsure, and you shook your head, eyes full of apologies.

‘I don’t know.’

‘Well, you’re not spending the time you have left shut away in here.’  You shrieked a little as the covers were pulled away, Negan’s strong arms slipping beneath your knees and around your back as he hoisted you into the air, cradling you against his chest as he strode across the room.

‘Where are we going?’

‘My room.  If you’re going out, might as well do it in fucking style, and I’m gonna be right there with you, sweetheart.  I promise.’


	5. Chapter 5

Negan’s movements above you took you away from the world.  He hovered over you so that you barely felt his weight, just the tickle of his chest hair against your skin and the warmth that emanated from him, wrapping itself around you so that you felt safe, untouched by sickness or pain, just for the moment.  You could feel the tension in his muscles as a low groan fell from his lips, knew he was holding himself back, afraid to hurt you, to break you, and though you longed to beg him to unleash the full force of his love upon you, you knew you were too fragile to withstand the onslaught.  And so, you let your head fall back against the pillows, thin fingers biting into Negan’s forearms as he rocked slowly into you, over and over, your eyes flickering closed as you let the sensation carry you away.

True to his word, he had carried you straight from the infirmary to his bed that day, the day you’d told him the truth: you were dying.  He’d deposited you down on one side of his indulgent four-poster, your frame cushioned by his silken covers, and then he’d settled himself beside you, reaching over to ghost his fingertips over your cheek.  You could still picture the look in his eyes: not pity as you’d feared; just a deep, penetrating sadness that felt like it was cutting right into your soul.

‘It’s okay,’ you’d told him, and he’d shaken his head, eyes widening.

‘How the fuck can you say that, doll?  It’s not okay.  Nothing about this is okay.’

'Negan-’  

'I’ve wasted too much fucking time…’  He tailed off, before reaching for your hand, squeezing it gently.  'I should have been by your side every damn second.  Hell, it’s where I wanted to be.  Ever since I met you… You fixed me.  I could’ve fallen apart after Lucille died.  I could’ve crumbled right there in the hospital and let some dead thing make a decent meal out of me, but you… you gave me a reason to keep going.  You got me back on my feet and somewhere along the road…’

Again his voice faded, his gaze searching as it combed over your face, and you found yourself smiling, in spite of everything.  'I love you.’

‘Shit, doll, I love you too.  Should'a told you before.  I just… There was always something else going on, y’know?’

'I know.’  In a way you were grateful for that, the distractions.  Negan had been building a future, a new world order, and it brought you some comfort to know that it would keep him going when you were gone, just as you had when he’d lost his wife.  He’d throw himself in to expanding, refining, doing whatever was needed to make the place work as he pictured, and it would bring him peace, you hoped; soften his grief, at least during the daylight hours.  ‘Look, I don’t want you to be sad, okay?’

‘How can I not be?’  Negan had sighed, brushing his lips over your knuckles, his eyes squeezing shut as he fought against a wave of emotion.  ‘I don’t even know how much longer I’ve got with you, sweetheart.  I can’t imagine this place without you.’

‘We can’t count the days,’ you told him decisively, rallying yourself.  One of you needed to be strong.  ‘We can’t.  It’s too hard.  We don’t know for sure how long I’ve got.  So, we’ll make the days count, instead, okay?  Promise me.’

‘We will, doll.  I swear.’

He’d kissed you after that, long and salty-sweet with the taste of tears and feelings that had been kept bottled up for far too long.  He’d kissed you for what felt like hours, whiling the day away, drawing small whimpers from your lips as he held you close, and then, as the light had begun to fade, you’d fallen asleep in his arms.

True to his word, he’d barely left your side since.  On your good days, when you felt strong enough to leave the comfort of his mattress and venture out into the world, you’d take gentle strolls through the forest, the Saviors around you, keeping watch but taking care to stay out of earshot.  It felt good to feel the breeze against your skin, the sunlight dancing over your face, and you found that more than ever you were able to draw pleasure from the little things: the scamper of a rabbit through the undergrowth; the carpet of flowers that bloomed between the trees; the scent of rain in the air.  Occasionally you’d tire more quickly than you’d expected, and Negan would scoop you up in his arms and carry you back to the factory, your knight in smooth, black leather, Lucille having been briskly handed off to one of his men with a stern warning to treat her nicely.

On your bad mornings, where you woke with your head aching, and the lead-limbed lethargy brought on my one too many seizures in a short space of time, you’d stay right where you were, and Negan would read to you from the books that his people scavenged whilst out on the road.  You rarely listened to the words, paid barely any attention to the story, but you liked the steady hum of his voice, could listen to it for hours, that honey-gravel tone that brought a flush to your cheeks.  And, when he’d tired of that, he’d wrap an arm around you, and press soft kisses to every inch of you within reach, learning you completely so that he’d have a perfect image of you to call up during the long nights he’d spend alone.

You’d known that he’d wanted to take things further.  You could feel it in the heat of his kisses, the way his hands wandered over you, taking you in, but you could also sense his fear.  You were so fragile now, so delicate that sometimes you thought it hurt just to breathe, but you also knew that you needed this.  You needed him.  You wanted to know every part of him, wanted to know what it felt like for him to claim you, and so you’d approached the subject with a coy smile, sliding your hand beneath the thin cotton of his t-shirt and earning a soft growl of frustration.

‘You gotta watch that, doll.’

‘What?’

‘You’re gonna get me all worked up and, shit, I can’t take another cold shower.’

‘You don’t have to.’

His spark of hope had flashed across his face before his shoulders had slumped in resignation.  ‘Sweetheart, you know we can’t.  I don’t wanna-’

‘What?’ you’d challenged him.  ‘Hurt me?  Everything already hurts, Negan!  Please, I want this.  I want you.  Just… be gentle with me, okay?’

And he had.  That time and the countless times that followed.  Just like now, he would treat you as though you were made of glass, giving you what you needed, working you both slowly to your peaks, to the place where everything exploded in a technicolour shower of stars and you forgot who you were and where you were and what was happening.  It became an escape, for the both of you, and it was one you’d been unable to get enough of.  If this was how you were to spend the little time you had left, then you were certain you would die happy.

Sweat clung to Negan’s skin as he rolled off of you, curling against you and brushing a limp strand of hair away from your face.  ‘You okay?’

‘I’m okay,’ you reassured him, your own eyes glazed with the aftermath of your pleasure as it slowly ebbed away.  ‘I’m good, I promise.  You didn’t hurt me.  You never do.’

If you’d known then that it would be the last time, you would’ve have pulled him back into you, wrapped your arms around his neck and buried your face in the curve of his throat and begged him not to stop, to keep going, forever, because it wasn’t enough.  It would never be enough.  But instead, you drifted off to sleep with a smile on your lips and Negan’s hand resting on your stomach.

 

* * *

 

The next morning when you woke, you felt different.  The idea of moving, even just to roll onto your side, was overwhelming, and the sunlight seeping in through the curtains was intense and uncomfortable.  A headache lingered in the back of your head, pounding dully with each beat of your heart, and your tongue felt unnaturally heavy, your voice thick when you whispered his name.  ‘Negan.’

‘Morning, doll.  How’re you feeling?’

How were you feeling?  Odd.  Tired.  Aware of your pain and yet, at the same time, startlingly numb, as though you weren’t really there at all.  But, when you opened your mouth to speak, nothing came out.  A hushed rasp.  Maybe a slight moan.  The words wouldn’t form, and you couldn’t even summon up the energy to wonder why.

‘Sweetheart, you with me?’  You managed a slight nod, but it did little to erase the concern from Negan’s eyes.  ‘You need me to get the doc?’

He was already climbing from the bed before you could attempt to answer, pulling on his pants and a fresh t-shirt from the drawers that stood against the wall, and disappearing from view.

It could have been hours or seconds before he was back at your side again, and there was another voice, further away, and the thud of footsteps.

‘Y/N?  Y/N, can you tell me how you’re feeling?’

You twisted your neck in the direction of the sound, but the light from the window became overbearing once again and you squeezed your eyes shut, turning away as best you could.

‘We need to get that curtain shut properly.  The light, it’s bothering her.’  The bed shifted as Negan went to do as he’d been told, and the doctor’s gentle tones moved closer, until you could see his face hovering above you.  He didn’t bother to ask you any more questions, instead carrying out some quick checks, methodical as ever, and you let out a small sigh when he finally stepped back.  ‘I-I don’t think she’s got long.  We’re near the end now.  When was the last time she ate anything?’

‘I…’  Negan hesitated, and you pictured him racking his brains, trying to remember.  ‘It’s been a few days.’

‘Her body’s shutting down.  I’m sorry.’

‘What do we do?’

‘There’s nothing we can do.’

‘Doc!’  He sounded desperate and that sent a spike of pain through your heart, the first thing you’d really felt since you’d opened your eyes.

‘Just be with her.  That’s all anyone can do now.  I’m sorry.’

You weren’t sure when the doctor left.  Your tiredness had won out, all of a sudden, and when you next slipped back into consciousness, it was just you and Negan once again.  You could feel his body stretched out beside you, his arm firm beneath your head, and you longed to curl yourself against him, but it was beyond you now.  He was talking, you realised, murmuring to you, or to himself - you weren’t quite sure.  He sounded sad, so painfully sad that it broke your heart, and you fought against the urge to sob, unsure whether you were still able to form the tears anyway.  Instead, you just listened.

‘Shit, Lucille.  What the fuck is it about me, huh?  Am I just fucking cursed?  Every woman I’ve ever loved… And yeah, I can hear you now, laughing to yourself.  I know there’ve been a lot of women.  But the only ones I’ve really loved… They… They get sick and they leave me.  I did this already, I swear, and I mourned for you, I did.  Much as I could, given the circumstances and the whole world going to hell.  And then there was her, and she’s…  She’s my whole world, she is.  She’s not you.  She’s different, but damn, I’d do anything for her.  But she’s… She’s going soon and then I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.  How do I keep going after this, huh?  Goddammit.  I-I can’t imagine what it’s gonna be like to wake up without her by my side.  Who the fuck’s gonna rein me in when I’m getting out of hand, huh?  Who’s gonna tell me when I’m about to make a stupid fucking decision?  Who’s gonna listen to me ramble on about the good old days before I did my usual asshole thing and fucked everything up?  She’s probably the only person alive who likes listening to my voice as much as I do.  You should see her, baby.  I mean, maybe you can.  Maybe I’ve gotten it wrong all these years and there is a damn heaven up there, and you’re watching my every move.  Bet you fucking hate that.  But maybe you can see her, wasting away right in front of me, just like you did.  I hate it.  I hate that I can’t help her.  I can’t fight this.  Give me a walker and I’ll grind the son of a bitch’s head into the ground, I will, but this… The big C.  Shit, I got nothing.  And the worst thing is, I knew this was coming.  Just like we did, last time around.  I knew it was coming and I just… I couldn’t stop it.  And I’m not ready.  I’m just not fucking ready to say goodbye to her yet.  I’ll never be ready.’

You felt his chest heave, and then the room filled with the sound of his hushed cries as he broke apart, and you struggled to edge closer to him, wishing you could make him happy again.

He must have sensed your movements, because he sucked in a shaky breath and the arm beneath you wrapped around your shoulders.  ‘You with me, doll?’

You nodded.  

‘You hurting?’

A shake of your head.  He didn’t need to know.  

‘I wish I knew what to do here, sweetheart.  I’m fucking clueless.’

But he was doing it.  He was there by your side, and you weren’t alone as you faced the darkness that was descending, ready to pull you away from this place where you’d built a home into the unknown.  You weren’t really scared by it, not anymore.  It brought with it a promise of peace, of an end to all of this, but you were still glad of his presence, a solid reminder that, for the moment, you were still here.

The rest of the day passed in a haze.  At least, you thought it was just the one day.  It could have been several.  Time had long since lost its meaning as you slipped in and out of consciousness, welcoming the relief that sleep brought, though you longed to be awake to revel in the warm comfort of the man beside you.  Negan talked a lot.  Sometimes to you, sometimes to himself, sometimes to Lucille.  Your attention was shaky, and the words didn’t always make sense in your head, but you could have listened to him for days without growing bored.  

It was like that, with your head on his chest - you’d managed to turn, with his help, at last - and his strong arm wrapped around you, that you felt the tugging sensation that had plagued you for a while now grow stronger, and you knew it was nearly time.  You didn’t belong here anymore, no matter how badly you might want to.  Your breaths were growing weaker, it took an exhausting amount of effort to fill your lungs, and you felt quite detached from everything, as though you were already someplace else.  Only Negan kept you centred, grounded, and you clung on to that, eking out every second, as one by one your senses shut down.

Your gaze was fixed on his face, eyes dry and itchy, though you refused to let them close.  Usually golden skin, pale and drawn from too many long days shut away with you, hiding from the sun.  The lines around his eyes that deepened when he laughed, and the smattering of coarse hair over his cheeks and chin that scratched against your skin when he kissed you.  The dimples beneath that had the ability to awaken a fluttering mass of butterflies in your stomach.  Thin lips that could curve up into a smile so devastatingly handsome that you thought it should really be illegal.  Every part of him so achingly familiar that, even when your eyes flickered closed for the last time, you could still see him clearly.

His voice.  Spine-tinglingly deep with just that hint of a Southern twang to his words.  You’d heard it scream and shout, dripping with anger.  You’d heard it laced with tears as he’d whispered his secrets to you, his regrets, private confessions about those he’d lost.  And you’d heard it bitten out through gritted teeth as he’d fought for control, detailing all the sinful things that he wished he could do to you through his lust-filled haze, if only… If only.  But you weren’t sure you’d ever heard it sound as bereft as it did right then.  Lost.  Almost childlike, if it hadn’t been for the gravelly tone.  You’d recognise that voice anywhere, you thought, before realising that you couldn’t hear it anymore.  

His scent swam in the air around you, whiskey and leather and the slight piney-tang of his shower gel.  Each breath you fought for was dripping with it, and it soothed you, comforted you, assured you that you were right where you were meant to be.  Home.  Negan was your home, and you were in his arms, and his musk was thick in your nose and in your veins, as though you were drowning in it, and what a way that would be to go.  You sucked in another breath, a final breath, one last hit of that intoxicating essence, and it brought a small smile to your lips.

And even when your last breath had left you, and your heart faltered and stuttered before finally falling still, you could still feel him.  Not only his warmth, but the soft cushion of his chest beneath your cheek, and the muscles flexing in his arm as he stroked his fingers over the curve of your waist.  You could feel the velvety smoothness of his mouth as he pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head and the hot trickle of liquid over your skin as his tears began to fall.

And you felt his goodbye, though you couldn’t see it or hear it, though you were barely even aware of him at all anymore.  You felt it.  And you carried it with you as you finally let go.


End file.
